Squander
by CompletelyDone
Summary: Scorpius has every intention of huffing into Rose's office in confrontation. He's just not quite sure how. Two-Shot.
1. Part 1

**Here's part one of a piece I've been working on. Enjoy!**

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She's staring blankly at the floor. But Rose Weasley always seems to be in another place when she sits there. Her business-padded shoulders peak just barely over a desk too lofty for her and her modest personality.

He's told her, at least twice now, she should buy a taller chair so he can see her when he visits. But Scorpius Malfoy rarely visits her at work. She's always choosing to pace and stare vacantly at the floor in his office 'because the ceilings are higher.'

Normally, he couldn't be bothered to knock. Her door is always wide open, for Merlin's sake, so why take the trouble? It's different today, though. Aside from the fact that Scorpius has come in a huff, Rose's lips are straight instead of curled maniacally in their usual way. He supposes that's what stops him at the door. That, and the realization she hasn't perked up to welcome him inside. It's crushing to perceive her frozen in some unpleasant moment, though he knows already what it is.

He stands in the threshold, hoping that she'll notice something, _anything_ , and turn to him. The ugly purple tie she bought him last Christmas is wrapped sentimentally under his collar. The knocker squeals lightly under his clammy fingers, and he almost winces as it comes back down to thud against the door. Shouldn't friendship- _best_ friendship-mean not having to knock?

Rose's mouth turns up once she glimpses him leaning awkwardly against her doorframe, but the cheer doesn't quite reach her eyes. She used to tell him that her irises were the color of mud, and he hates himself for noticing it for the first time just now.

He must have an aura of disapproval, he realizes, as she suddenly ducks her head and freezes up once more. They've never played this game before-the 'You Say it First Because I Wouldn't Dare' contest. She'll win, of course, but he focuses on the silver barrette over her right ear until then.

"What happened?" he finally asks, voice far more understanding than intended. Marching here in a rage was the easy part. Holding it out in front of her presented the challenge. "Rose," he dictates more firmly as soon as her lips are drawn in silence, "What the bloody hell happened?"

For a moment, he wishes he'd have chosen his words more carefully. They both know why he's there; they both know what happened last evening.

Scorpius watches her chin tremble and wonders whether it will be the utter end to his resolve. He hates himself for giving in to crying women; just last month he agreed to a horrid date to appease his mother. Fortunately, Rose finds a backbone and remarks plainly, "I couldn't do it."

It.

Two letters leading to the longest night of his life. Ironically, he considers, this mess came about with a different two letters: _No_.

She's removed the pictures from her desk already and has rearranged the other frames, likely hoping he won't know the difference. He briefly wonders what she's done with the photographs, but only manages to shake his head.

Peter McMurray has already disappeared from Rose's office. Her life, even. Fourteen hours later and she's carrying on as per usual.

"That's it, then?" His fingers press into the edge of her desk as he casts a shadow over her face. It's stupid, and he knows it, but he backs up a few centimeters just so the light can hit the freckles on her temple. "You and he date for a year and a half and you decide _now_ you can't do it?"

A rumble shakes the counter as Rose pulls open a large drawer. "I see you're picking sides," she murmurs, probably hoping he can't hear. But Scorpius has had ample time training his ears to her mumbling.

"I'm not-"

"Stop assuming the worst of me."

Scorpius demanded the same thing of her once after she accused him of cheating in Herbology. His jaw clenches as he is reminded of their long friendship: ten years that saw them from naïve schoolchildren to working adults and everything in between.

"Why? So you can keep lying to me?" He hears her suck in a shallow breath, but every part of him refuses to take it back. Scorpius won't regret those words. No amount of tears can convince him otherwise, not even hers.

But now is not the place-nor the time-to address this fear. "Rose, Pete was tossed when he came home last night. Do you know how many cliffs I talked him down from? I nearly checked him into St. Mungo's."

She refuses to meet his anger, instead turning her disappointment toward the clock on the wall. Cursing, she abruptly ducks back down and flies through various drawers, file folders stacking haphazardly in front of her.

"Is it because he hates the Cannons?" Scorpius asks, mostly out of desperation. "Not that you care, but your father might. Or," he adds when Rose remains unresponsive, "because he gets his hair cut twice a month?"

Something churns inside of him unpleasantly when she shoots him a venomous sneer before turning away again. The barrette in her hair comes loose as she bows over her lowest cabinet.

"Rose," he all but pleads. He hates how she can hide from him so easily while his palms sweat and ears ring. "I know you're not that blinkered. Please talk to me."

The too-short chair she sits in scrapes unpleasantly across the floor as she stands abruptly. "Why?" Her voice is low and steady, but he notices her hands shaking as she presses them into her stacked files. For her small stature and quiet disposition, Scorpius reflects-not with comfort-that she can inflict a fear of Merlin into someone. "So you can keep accusing me?"

His head spins as she mocks him. "You don't regret any of it? You're just walking away knowing Pete could have died last night?"

"It isn't my fault he chose to get arseholed, no matter how much you try to twist this!"

"No, of course not. Merlin forbid he grieve when the woman he loves rejects him." If anyone were to ask, Scorpius would say that he hadn't planned to start yelling. In fact, he might say a part of him died from the defacing repartee she had begun. "Why, Rose? Tell me why you would do that to a man who loves you!"

"Because he's not you!" her voice breaks as she screams across polished maple. In the following silence, Scorpius swears her words echo off the brick walls around them.

He can't budge. He can barely breathe. His tongue tries so hard to move, to form words that could matter, but it sinks like lead in his mouth.

A glint of wetness shines in mud-brown eyes before a rustle of folders and steady movement. "Close the door when you leave," is barely heard as she sweeps past him and out of her office.

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 **Part 2 is written and ready for release soon.**

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 **Blessings,**

 **CompletelyDone**


	2. Part 2

She stands in the mirror of the ladies room. There's a flickering light, but she can't bring herself to address the problem-largely because she left her wand on her desk.

The red tear streaks on her face are finally fading. After a two-hour meeting with her coworkers-consisting of Rose choking back tears-she is glad to have some time alone in the stalls. Unfortunately, she's spent an hour sobbing uncontrollably and hyperventilating over the friendship she had carelessly chucked.

Imbecilic. She considers this an adequate word to describe her loose tongue and discomposure.

Rose pats her cheeks roughly in attempt to bring life back to her deathly face. The barrette hanging limply from her hair is repositioned securely. Scorpius will be long gone by now, she reasons, and her paperwork won't do itself.

He used to tell her she was like an ostrich that way-burying her head in her work to avoid the real world. But distraction is for the best. Especially since his lazy, sarcastic opinions drift through her head every few minutes. It won't do to have him rattling her brain now.

Scorpius will ignore and eventually forget her, and she is-not for the first time-determined to move past him. How one can forget their oldest, closest friend confounds her, but he will be on his way easily enough.

Pushing open her office door, she decides she's damned by the sprig of relief that blooms in her chest.

"I found another reason for you to get a new chair," Scorpius speaks unsurely. His legs are crossed upon her desk as he reclines behind it. His purple tie and hair are in incredible disarray, which is not unlike him. "This one's extremely stiff."

She makes a beeline to the file cabinet on the opposite wall, just to avoid his searching looks as long as possible. Her files will be an outlandish mess, but she figures it's worth not getting sick or weeping at the sight of her guest.

"What are we doing for lunch?" His voice makes her jump, hair clip already becoming undone. "There's this place near Green Park I've been dying to try."

Rose's vision becomes unfocused, and she barely registers filing a court appeal into a testimonies folder. "Peter wouldn't be keen on you taking me," her voice crackles after clearing her throat.

Her blonde counterpart is up and ambling toward her before she can wipe the disappointment from her face. "Pete isn't my best mate." Reaching over her shoulder, he plucks her old brown coat off a wobbly rack. "Are you feeling adventurous? Apparently this place has the best masala on our side of the Thames."

She doesn't have to watch him to know his eyes are unfocused and his neck is red. The spot right under his ears turns crimson when he clenches his teeth. Rather than turn to her noticeably vexed companion, Rose merely accepts her jumper with no intention whatsoever of dining with him.

When Scorpius ushers her out the door, however, it seems she has no choice.

As their shoes clack against the shining marble floors in the hall, Rose steadily paces a step behind the boy-turned-man who helped her chop her brown curls in a fit of rebellion at thirteen. Fingers shaking, she accidentally yanks off a button from the worn wool in her grip with no small amount of frustration.

"Remember that bloke, Barrett, I told you about last week? The legal assistant?" he asks, probably blissfully unaware of her hammering heart and queasy stomach. "He was finally sacked yesterday."

She briefly wonders if the route to the elevator has always been this long and if there's a problem with the ventilation in her department. If asked, she'd use the heat as the reason she presses the elevator call button so urgently.

Rose nearly jumps out of her clothes when Scorpius begins to chuckle, "Did I ever tell you about how he sent a property examination to the Quibbler instead of the Quiddich Board? Mr. Lovegood sent us a rather large stack of Snorcrack investigations and the like for three weeks!"

"Why are you doing this?" She tries not to revel in the whoosh of air passing through the gate as the elevator advances, especially as it cools her warm face. Her relief increases once she spots a passenger inside. However depressing, Rose knows she will be far less likely to cry if she's near a stranger.

"Doing what?" Much to her horror, the unaware rider steps past her as the lattice clicks aside. Scorpius' questioning eyes follow her as she shuffles into the closed-quarters.

Her toe scuffs against the ground. "Being casual with me." When he merely shrugs after several moments, frustration boils up in her. "So what I said is irrelevant?" She hopes her indignation is covered by the untimely dance they begin as the compartment swings this way and that.

The stop of the elevator comes so suddenly that Rose flies into the back wall. A small railing barely helps her stand upright. When she looks up, the first thing she registers is Scorpius' hand on a red lever. The second is his expression, so entirely new that Rose does not know what to expect.

"You really-" Words fall to the floor as he begins to rake his hands through his hair and stride the two meter space in front of her. An unpleasant squeak in the floor begins to match the pulse Rose can feel in her fingertips.

It's not until his pacing turns to fiercely clutching the bronze gate holding them captive that she moves toward him. "Scorp-"

As soon as his name touches her lips, he's glued her into place with an unnatural crease between his eyebrows. "Merlin, Rose," he croaks. She has witnessed him cry before-once when he broke his tibia in a Quiddich match and once when his grandmother passed away-but never has she observed a drained, brokenness behind his watery eyes. For the first time, she notices the weariness in his shoulders. "I thought I lost you."

She reaches for the grab handle above her, partially to hold herself upright and partially as an excuse to break his desperate gaze. Her jacket has pooled at her feet and hair finally come undone from the jarred movement.

"I lost you once when you told me you were dating Pete, but I thought I lost you forever the minute he brought home that ring." The metal rustles as Scorpius rests his weight against it resignedly. "He was so thrilled to show me, but I-"

Rose smears the wetness suddenly running down her face-undoubtedly blackening her cheeks-as he swallows.

"I feel the same way, Rose. I need you to know that. But I work with Pete. I _live_ with him. We can't-"

"I know," she leans into him, struggling to open the hand that had been clenched over her head. As he rests his chin atop her head, she hates herself for everything and curses Peter for nothing at all. She almost wonders aloud when it became so hard to be a decent person.

They remain slumped against the elevator doorway until maintenance sends a Patronus for inquiry. Grudgingly, Rose uprights herself, drags her sleeve beneath her eyes, and rights the lever that jolts them back into motion.

As they sway in silence, Scorpius reaches between them to clasp her free hand in his own. She grips his fingers tightly and forces a smile his way-one nearly as fake as his.

Ironically, Rose thinks, she's as free as ever, but Scorpius has still lost her in a way. For a moment, she's worried about whether they can remain as they were. But the corners of his eyes become more familiar as she admits, "I'm sorry I bought you that tie. It looks awful on you."

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 **Blessings,**

 **CompletelyDone**


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